A Disillusionment

It sounds counter-intuitive. How can the ‘Jewish State’ or the Zionist movement be anti-Semitic? But several of US President Donald Trump’s appointments have made it clearer than ever. He leads the most pro-Israel US administration in history, even while appointing key figures with anti-Semitic ties as his most important advisers.

- Asa Winstanley, Memo: Middle-East Monitor

The anti-Semite has chosen hate because hate is a faith; at the outset he has chosen to devalue words and reasons . . . . How futile and frivolous discussions about the rights of the Jew [cf. Palestinian] appear to him . . . . If out of courtesy he consents for a moment to defend his point of view, he lends himself but does not give himself. He tries simply to project his intuitive certainty onto the plane of discourse.

But some will object: what if he is like that only with regard to the Jews [cf. Palestinians]? What if he otherwise conducts himself with good sense? I reply that that is impossible . . . . A man who finds it entirely natural to denounce other men cannot have our conception of humanity; he does not see even those whom he aids in the same light as we do. His generosity, his kindness, are not like our kindness, our generosity. You cannot confine passion to one sphere.

- Jean-Paul Sartre, ‘Anti-Semite and Jew’

(Note: ‘Bibi’ is the nickname, affectionate or otherwise, of Benjamin Netanyahu, the current Prime Minister of Israel.)

My parents spoke of IsraelAs of a Promised Land,A place on which our dreams might dwell,Though not (we'd understand)A dwelling-place since its far spellCould not be known first-handAnd some folk there had been through hellEn route for Haifa’s strand.

Still it remained my soul's ideal, My youthful hope and dream, That magic place-name that would steal Upon me as the theme Of reverie, though a country real Enough for it to seem, In bad times, the one name to heal My wounded self-esteem.

For that, to me, was what it meant, Aside from all the fuss (As then I thought) about those sent Away to clear for us, Or ours, more Lebensraum that lent A God-sent chance to bus Or fly folk in and circumvent Land-claims we'd not discuss.

But then the doubts began to crowd Back in and wake a sense Of what injustices allowed My joy at their expense, Those Palestinians, once a proud And free-born people; whence Their courage to endure unbowed In rightful self-defence.

These five decades, since Israel fought Its war for 'living-space', I've watched the dream go sour and thought Their talk of 'by God's grace' The sort of thing routinely taught When people make a case For causes desperately short Of any moral base.

And now we've evidence, if more Was needed, in the way That Bibi's happy to ignore The bulging dossier With Trump's additions to the store Of handy ways to play The fascist card and give his core Supporters a field-day.

For now I have to count the name Of 'Israel' one we lump, To its and my eternal shame, With that of Donald Trump, An anti-semite who would blame 'The Jews' as soon as plump For Moslems or whoever came In next for the high jump.

And then I think: was Sartre right To say that what we mean By 'Jew', or ought to mean in light Of history, is seen Most clearly in the victim-plight Of everyone who's been Killed, dispossessed, or put to flight By hatred's lie-machine.

So 'anti-semite' would extend Beyond its usual scope To take in haters who depend On 'Jews' to let them cope With categories of foe and friend So stark that they must grope Around for scapegoats fit to lend Their hate-crusade new hope.

For who, I ask you, wants or dares To come straight out and state The chosen-people case: that there's Some type-specific trait, Of grace or shame, that no-one shares Who's not a candidate For marking down as one of theirs Or one they're bound to hate?

So I’m among the dispossessed, An inner exile, though I've only lost the dream that blessed My early years, and so Am now resolved to do my best For those who undergo Such pains as only the oppressed In soul and body know.

Why then should I, deprived of all I once believed in, keep Faith with a state whose actions call For me to take the leap And say I’ve now crossed Bibi’s wall With soul-wounds that go deep Because such late-life Paul-to-Saul Conversions don't come cheap.

Yes, I'm still 'Jewish', but the word Now signifies, for me, Whatever voices can't be heard, Whoever lives unfree, And those whose minds and hearts are stirred By acts we daily see When history’s victims, undeterred By force, seek liberty.

So when they couple 'Zionist' With (what seems quite insane) 'Anti-semitic' I insist That first we ascertain Just what they mean in case we've missed Their point and it's the strain Induced by that mind-wrenching twist Of thought that's most germane.

All praise to those Israelis brave Enough to stay around, Confront the threats, and fight to save The name in which they found, Like me, a source of pride that gave Fresh hope yet runs aground More jarringly with each new wave Of war-planes Gaza-bound.

For now the hate-name 'Arab' rings, On every settler's tongue, With a harsh resonance that brings Back memories fresh sprung, Like 'Jew', said brusquely, which still stings Me now as once it stung Years back, and other hurtful things They'd say when I was young.

And, worse, we have to quell our rage When Trump and Bibi use Our history of victimage As a means to excuse Their choice of some new war to wage, Which makes it seem us Jews Are cast forever as front-page And soul-destroying news.

Yet most of all it's this that drives Me nearly to despair: The thought that Palestinian lives Should be the ones that bear The lethal cost of what arrives Like karma when we dare To reenact a scene that thrives On sufferings elsewhere.

Yet that's the hideous double-bind They'd wish on us, those two Gut-populists who’ve now combined Their forces with a view To ‘common interests’ redefined So as to let them do Whatever gets the mob behind Their demagogic coup.

So if we’re so keen to appease Our ‘ally' Trump, then how Come he and his own allies seize Each chance to re-avow Those sentiments that show that he's, Like them, one who'd allow A pogrom-blitz if that would please His followers right now.

So – pray forgive me if I rub The lesson in too hard – What price our entry to the club Of players with Trump card If, from now on, we have to grub Around for such ill-starred Alliances as earn a snub Even in our backyard?

Why then rebuke me when I stake My faith on it that we've A duty now, as Jews, to take Our conscientious leave Of any creed that, for the sake Of striving to achieve The New Jerusalem, would make Us prone to self-deceive.

For there's no telling just how far This grim charade might run Before it hits a credence-bar When we'll at last have done With any rule that says we are Required to honour none But tales of faith that may now jar No matter how they're spun.

You find me now, I must confess, A man of darker mood And one perhaps too keen to stress These things on which I brood Incessantly, though hoping less For some new certitude Than for some way to dispossess Myself of hopes renewed.

It's when I think again of that Embrace so warmly shared Between the fascist plutocrat And Bibi, aptly paired As they may be, that I feel flat- Out thankful to be spared All last pretence of aiming at The moral circle squared.

For who could make-believe the dream Lives on now Israel's made Its Faustian pact with Trump's regime And bolstered the parade Of those whose latest master-scheme, Once all the plans are laid, Leaves no place on the winning team For their back-up brigade?

Christopher Norris is Distinguished Research Professor in Philosophy at the University of Cardiff. He is the author of more than thirty books on aspects of philosophy, politics, literature, the history of ideas, and music.